


stones in my pocket

by Radiation



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Poetry, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiation/pseuds/Radiation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The water sings, the waves follow a beat, and there are melodies you can only hear underwater. They worry about drowning, but they really should worry about your power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stones in my pocket

**Author's Note:**

> everyone is sad and gay  
> also basically every piece has a self-harm, suicide, disassociation, or depression tw tread very carefully

They tell you not to wander too far out, but they don’t understand. The water sings, the waves follow a beat, and there are melodies you can only hear underwater. They worry about drowning, but they really should worry about your power.

Your blood rises to your skin, flush. Your heart races. The ocean, the ocean, _the ocean_ , the waves follow your heart, they follow your will. You belong to the sea. They thought they could tame you, could lock you away for a thousand thousand years, but you are water, fluid, always finding a way to escape.

You have been worshipped and denounced, you have been put on a pedestal and shot down. You are every witch who looks mournfully at the nightfires. You are every beautiful girl who is hiding crazy under the surface. They say you’re a free spirit, a rebel, but they do not _see_ \--- the sea is dangerous, the white capped waves claim more lives than hearts every day and yes, they look at you with hungry eyes but they cannot claim to know what you yearn for, to put stones in your pockets and drag them all down to hell with you.

Time is claimed by you drinking and dancing, wearing bright lipstick and smoking blunts you aren’t paying for. You feel immortal, but not like all the other teenagers do, you remember lives you didn’t live and you feel like you’ll find the answer at the bottom of deep deep blue. You get in an accident one night after too many shots of 1800 and you’re told you were so close to dying, but you never feel quite so alive again.

It’s the adrenaline, the rush, the loss of all control, drowning in the danger of it all. Drowning, that is the answer, you tell your therapist, your mother, your wrists at two in the morning. If you drown, you say, then you lose all the chains that hold you back.

One night you dream of a deformed monster, but it has your voice, and then another. It is a shadow of a shadow, a memory removed. She screams, and you feel yourself trying to hold something together that does not belong. And you dance with a woman that looks like a tiger in the next dream. It doesn’t seem related, but you know it is, you know you would find out if you simply could replace your lungs with stones.

You break mirrors, and see far off worlds in reflections. They tell you it’s the drugs, it’s the lack of sleep, but you know that in another world they would have called you a messenger of the gods instead of the messenger of the insane.

It’s cold outside. You live right on the beach, but January is still bitter just like you. The house is quiet and you think -- just a swim, just a dive, just a look into the sweet darkness. The water gives you a freezing embrace, wrapping itself around you. You feel the waves rise with your pulse, feel yourself getting pulled out farther and deeper. You take one last breath, and you dive to the bottom. You’ll find what you’re looking for. But they never find you. 


	2. sacrificial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you are as infinite as the universe  
> but you must contain yourself  
> in this singular point  
> flesh and tendons  
> try not to tear yourself apart  
> try not to get lost in the shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bby steven comparing himself to rose, poem

all your worth stems from regret

it grows deep in your throat

and flowers out between your teeth

thorns hitting your cheeks

_i wish, i wish, i wish_

shooting stars only ever ignite

when you don’t wish them to

fires begin without your leave

has anything ever occurred

that hasn’t been out of your control?

 

they say

_you’re just like her_

but she was powerful

a goddess

she was wrought in war

she was a sacrifice

hiding out in a temple of her own design

and now all you see is

the rot and broken foundation

is this what they mean?

 

you are inorganic

and nothing ever feels quite right

not the clothes on your back

or the family you’ve strung together

but the sweet burn that fills your gut

that bright light, full of power

it feels heavenly

_it feels blasphemous_

you are future, past, present

you are a god, another sacrifice

 

you are as infinite as the universe

but you must contain yourself

in this singular point

flesh and tendons

_try not to tear yourself apart_

try not to get lost in the shadows

remember, you’re a hero

and you must always

always

save the day

  
  



End file.
